


Every Saint Has a Past, Every Sinner Has a Future

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Series: Retrouvailles [6]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluffy-ish, Kent Parson deserves a vacation, M/M, Talking, Vacation, suggestive selfies, thank god for Jack's therapist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: While Kent is on a much-needed vacation, he and Jack get closer via text.This is the SIXTH part of myPimms Weekseries! The prompt for today is "somebody else."





	Every Saint Has a Past, Every Sinner Has a Future

**Author's Note:**

> Things are looking up, y'all!
> 
> This story takes place after [The Long Walk Back to Sunset](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061664).

Kent stretched and adjusted his sunglasses. He was beginning his second week in Jamaica and his body and mind had slowed down to where it took him a full five minutes to rouse enough to go dip into the pool and wash the sweat off. It was afternoon, and he’d spent all day alternating between lounging in the sun, half-reading a book, and swimming. His hair was full of salt and chlorine, his chest and shoulders nearly done peeling with the burn he’d stupidly gotten on the first day. His body was darker than he ever remembered it being, his hair lighter. Freckles that remained mostly hidden during the long winter months announced themselves across the bridge of his nose. Laid out on his reclined beach chair, an honest-to-God umbrella drink only inches from his hand, he was the very picture of a tropical vacation.

The first three days in Negril had been a little anxiety-provoking--it was the first time in Kent’s life he’d attempted to slow all the way down to a near-stop. He took morning runs, and did basic workouts in the nicely-appointed resort gym, but that was it. For two weeks, he was eating whatever he wanted (mostly fish and fruit, it turned out), drinking whatever he wanted (mostly umbrella drinks, no surprise there), and doing whatever he wanted (damn little). Once he got used to it, it was heaven.

He’d been snorkeling a couple of times, which was fun, and fishing once, which wasn’t. He’d spent two nights at beach bonfires, sharing a bong with some of the locals, trying to pick up enough of out of their thick accents to converse. Nobody here knew who he was, or cared. He was just another tourist, probably a spectacle in his loud swim trunks, with his lobster-red skin, but nobody important. He felt hidden--not closeted, but blessedly ignored.

There was a little nightclub in the resort--nothing much, just a mediocre-at-best DJ and a disco ball. Kent checked it out on the third night and found it lacking, mostly full of teenage girls trying to get away from their parents during family trips. He had, however, found Teddy there, leaning against a wall with a drink, looking equal parts amused and irritable. Kent struck up a conversation, turning on his Hockey Superstar Kent Parson charm for the first time since the plane landed. Teddy went slowly from unplussed to mildly interested. A couple of hours later, they were in Kent’s suite, naked and lying directly in front of the air conditioning vents. They’d hooked up a few more times since, and the sex was a welcome addition to Kent’s idyllic respite. Teddy didn’t want anything from him beyond what he was here, and that was just perfect.

The summer had been brief, but mostly good--Kent spent a lot of time helping out at Aces training camp, checking out the potentials for the next season. They were losing two of their older players to retirement, and another to what would probably be a career-ending injury, so the fresh faces were especially welcome. He’d hung out with Kit, planted a few herbs on his deck, and binge watched more TV shows than he could count. Mostly, he’d healed from the toughest season on record, and hidden from the press, especially interested in him after his coming out announcement. Then, to top it all off, he’d come to Jamaica for the two weeks before pre-season training started.

Kent wrinkled his nose, testing the dryness and potential burning of his face. He knew he should put on more sunscreen, but he’d have to get up to reach it, and that seemed like unnecessary effort. Instead, he pulled his snapback off and turned it around, the bill shading his face. Good enough. He watched the other guests from behind his mirrored sunglasses, appraising them one by one. Mostly wealthy families and honeymooning couples. He ought to feel jealous, and normally he would, but right now he was just too comfortable in his seclusion.

Kent left his phone in his room when he went to the pool, knowing he’d end up on Twitter if he brought it down with him, and wanting to at least give reading his book a chance first. When he returned to take a shower before finding some dinner and hopefully finding Teddy, picking it up was the first thing he did. There were a bunch of unread messages. No matter how famous he got, Kent’s stomach still did a little flip when he saw that people were trying to get in touch with him. He felt wanted.

It took about two weeks after their meeting in Massachusetts for Jack to text Kent. Kent thought about texting him first, but decided he needed to send a message, so he waited. When Jack did start texting, his messages were brief and generic. Slowly, they texted more often and in more depth, though neither of them mentioned their conversation. Kent knew Jack, and knew he was still thinking about it, so he didn’t want to push.

Today’s messages were cheerful. There were a few photos of Jack’s parents’ place in Montreal--he was visiting this week. Kent had some happy memories there, playing shinny with Jack and Bob on their pond, Alicia smiling from the kitchen window, refusing to put on her own skates and play with them. He remembered curling up on the overstuffed sofa in their rec room, trying to teach a reluctant Jack how to play Grand Theft Auto. He remembered their awkward fumblings in Jack’s narrow bed, trying to figure out what they wanted, if they wanted. It got harder to smile at the memories after that, so Kent scrolled through the rest of Jack’s texts. There was no use going backward.

After reading all his messages, Kent propped his phone up and took a selfie. He looked happy, sunburnt, shirtless, with messy hair. He knew the picture was a little bit revealing, a little bit flirtatious. He sent it anyway, with the caption “Wish you were here.” Then he went to take a shower.

Toweling off his hair, Kent picked the phone back up. There were two new texts from Jack.

_Jesus Kenny._

_You look great._

Kent raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d have laid money on Jack ignoring the flirting. Interesting. He glanced at himself in the mirror. He did look good--he was in the best shape of his life, filled out as much as he was ever going to get. His abs were rock hard. He was tan and lean. He was, if he did say so himself, sexy as hell. After considering the angle for a few minutes, he took another selfie. The towel was wrapped low around his waist, his skin still wet from the shower. He widened his eyes, pouted out his lips. He’d never been a fan of subtle. When he looked at the picture, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was ridiculous. But still hot. He sent it without thinking too hard, captioning it “Vacation agrees with me, eh?”

Kent was finished dressing and ready to go when his phone buzzed again, this time with a photo message. The photo was taken in Jack parents’ home gym, Kent recognized the ancient hockey posters on the wall. Jack was lying down on the weight bench, shirtless. He’d clearly taken the picture with the front camera, from his own perspective. It showed a sliver of his chest, sweaty and ripped, a piece of his hard stomach, and the top of his shorts, obviously tented. One hand was resting near, but not on, the bulge. The caption said “Agrees with me too.”

Kent gasped aloud. This was a game he’d played before, with hook-ups and short-term lovers, but it was the last thing he expected from Jack. Before he could figure out how to respond, another text came through.

_Headed to the shower now. Have a good night, Parse._

Over the next few days, the suggestive texts between Kent and Jack continued. They didn’t go any further, but remained flirtatious. Jack sent a picture from after a dip in his parents’ pool, his legs drying in the sun, thigh muscles front and center. Kent photographed himself on the resort spa massage table, angling so nothing below his bare hip bones showed, smirking. They continued to talk about other things, too--the potential rookies they’d met, the books they were reading. It was both thrilling and comfortable. Kent tried not to think about when the other shoe was going to drop.

It was his second-to-last night in Jamaica. Kent had been on the beach, smoking up with the locals, one arm around Teddy. It was around midnight when he headed back to his suite, planning to wake up early in the morning for a last round of snorkeling. The text from Jack came as he walked back.

_Hey, can we talk?_

Kent frowned. This tone was different than the easy one they’d been cultivating for the last few days.

_Sure. Headed back 2 my room now. Should I call you?_

Jack replied almost immediately:

_Do you Skype?_

Kent snorted.

_I live in this century. Yes. Give me 10._

Kent kicked off his flip-flops, grabbed a bottle of water, and glanced in the mirror before arranging himself on his bed with his laptop. He was a little high, but not terribly. He should be OK for whatever Jack was about to lay on him. He braced himself and opened Skype.

When Jack appeared, he was in his apartment in Providence, not in Montreal. “Hey,” Kent said, before the sound had even engaged. “You’re home? I thought you were still at your folks’?”

“I came back a day early,” Jack said. He looked tired. The picture quality wasn’t great, but Kent thought his eyes were puffy, as if he’d been crying.

“Is everything OK?”

Jack paused and bit his lip. “Yeah…”

Kent waited, knowing Jack would come to what he wanted to say eventually.

“I came back to talk to Bitty,” Jack finally said. “I wanted to see him before school started.”

Kent nodded. This was going to be it, he thought. This was Jack telling Kent that he and Bitty were getting back together, and that there wasn’t going to be a place for Kent in his life.

Jack ran a hand through his hair. “We decided to stay split up.” He looked as if he was asking Kent for confirmation, for permission to go on.

Kent spoke slowly. “Are you...alright with that?”

Jack nodded. “I think I am. He’s right about it being too much too fast. I love him, but we want really different things right now. I don’t think I can be what he needs.”

“What about what you need?”

Jack paused again. “I don’t think he can be what I need, either,” he finally said.

“Do you want to talk about that?” Kent knew he sounded like his therapist, but he had no idea what he should be saying. He didn’t want to seem happy, or excited, even though, deep inside, he was.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I kinda do. Is that OK?”

Kent smiled. “Of course.”

Jack shook his head. “Don’t say of course. I know it had to be hard for you to listen to me talk about Bitty before. I was only thinking about myself then. I don’t want to do that again.”

Just as he had so many times recently, Jack surprised Kent with that. “I appreciate it, Zimms,” he said. “But I’m good. I’m here to listen.”

Jack slowly recounted the conversation between him and Bitty. It was sad and awkward, he said, but ultimately wasn’t as bad as he’d been expecting. While he’d been shocked and heartbroken when Bitty initially ended their relationship, he understood now, and, even though it was hard, agreed.

“It’s not just the age thing,” Jack said, “but that’s part of it. Life is a lot different at 25 than 21, you know? Especially when you add in the NHL.”

“Mine sure as hell is,” Kent agreed.

“He needs to find himself, I guess?” Jack shrugged. “The way he grew up, he was never allowed to be who he really is. He needs some time to do that before he lets another person impact it so much.”

“That makes sense,” Kent said. “But you’re still talking about him, about what he needs. What do you need?”

Jack was quiet for a long time. “I need someone who understands what it’s like to be exhausted all the time. To be fighting your way out of a shadow. To have everything you worked for, and always be terrified you’re going to fuck it up.”

Kent waited.

“I’m so much better than I used to be. No drugs, panic mostly under control. Therapy and all that. But, with Bitty, I wanted to always be...strong. For him not to know what a mess I am underneath.” He sighed. “I need someone who knows what a mess I am underneath, and loves me anyway.” He looked right at the camera, his voice a little shaky. “You know anybody like that, Kenny?”

Kent drew in a long breath. He knew what this sounded like, but he couldn’t quite believe that’s what it was. “I might,” he said softly.

“I know we’ve hurt each other for a long time,” Jack said. “And that’s mostly on me.”

Kent interrupted. “We’ve been over that, Zimms. You don’t get to take full responsibility for things that weren’t entirely your fault.”

Jack shrugged, unwilling to argue the point. “Anyway, we’ve hurt each other,” he continued. “And it’s been really hard, getting to know you again. A lot of things I thought were dead are still there.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“I didn’t know how much I still cared about you,” Jack said. “I mean, I knew, when you came to the Haus. I couldn’t have been that mad otherwise. But...I didn’t know how much I still wanted you. Still wanted to be with you.”

Kent swallowed and waited, but Jack didn’t say anything else. Eventually, Kent spoke. “You know how I feel about you,” he said. “I meant everything I said when we talked before. But I can’t pretend I’m not scared. I don’t want to be on edge all the time, wondering when you’re gonna lose it and stop talking to me.”

“I can’t make many promises,” Jack said softly. “I can promise I’ll try. Can we start with that?”

Kent nodded slowly. “Yeah. We can start with that.” He met Jack’s eyes across the screens. “We have to be honest with each other, though. I know it’s hard--it’s hard for me, too. But if we’re going to stop hurting each other, we have to be able to talk.”

“I know.” Jack leaned back, and Kent tried not to focus on the way his biceps rippled as he put his arms behind his head. “Let’s start simple, eh?”

“Simple?” Kent raised an eyebrow.

“Simple honesty.” Jack smiled. “Like, me telling you that I can’t stop thinking about the pictures you’ve been sending.”

Kent chuckled. “Oh yeah? What are you thinking?”

Jack smiled. He didn’t flush the way he used to. Kent might have to try harder. “You in the sand. You in the water. The freckles on your nose.”

“That’s cute, but non-specific.” Kent grinned. Later, when he was alone, he’d let himself think about how his stomach swooped at the idea of Jack noticing his freckles. It was such a small thing, a soft thing. A thing he hadn’t expected.

“Hmmm…” Jack pretended to think. “More specific? I’ve been thinking about your awful, awful shorts, and about pulling them down. I’ve been thinking about rubbing against your abs, and about how I want to get my hands in your hair before you cut it all off.” He was blushing some now, but he looked determined, and a little aroused.

Kent shivered. “That was delightfully specific,” he said. “Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking?”

“By all means.”

“I’ve been thinking about riding you on the weight bench in your parents’ gym.”

Jack blinked in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They were both breathing harder now. Kent was tempted to put a hand on himself, but they weren’t there yet, and he didn’t want to break this spell.

“It’s been good, talking to you this week,” Jack said. “Getting the pictures, definitely, but also just...talking.”

“I think so too.” Kent smiled.

“Maybe we can keep doing that for a while?” Jack asked. “See where we are from there?” He looked a little embarrassed, but added, “Kaya--that’s my therapist--says she thinks it would be good to go slow this time.”

Kent nodded. “I can do that. Slow is good.” He reached awkwardly toward the screen, as if he’d be able to touch Jack through it. “I’ll be back in Vegas in two days. We can talk again then, OK?”

“OK.” Jack looked much better than he had at the beginning of the call.

“If you need me before then, just text, OK?”

“OK. Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Zimms.”

“Goodnight, Kenny.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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